


Brave Little Ant

by canonjohnlock



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hell, M/M, Pre-Purgatory, Purgatory, Torture, mention of rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 07:43:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4011478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canonjohnlock/pseuds/canonjohnlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean remembers Castiel, but it is too little, too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brave Little Ant

**Author's Note:**

> Some of the dialogue is taken directly from the show. The episodes the dialogue is taken from are: 4.01, 6.22, and 7.01. I am not claiming any of that dialogue or the actions described as my own. All of it belongs to the writers of Supernatural, as do the characters. 
> 
> No actual Destiel takes place in this fic, so if you are looking for smut or fluff, you've come to the wrong place. 
> 
> The title comes from a quote Castiel directed at Dean, which you will find at the end of the fic. 
> 
> There is descriptive torture in this fic. Please procede with caution. 
> 
> And thanks to my lovely beta, Julia. WIthout her my fics would be shit.

Dean Winchester was a lot of things. One thing he wasn’t, however, was happy.

To tell the truth, he had never been truly happy since he was four. He had dealt with his hand before. Not well, granted, but enough to get by. He could drink his problems away. He could cover up his feelings with excuses of being tired from a job or being hungover. He could bury himself in the life or in women. He always had a valid excuse.

This time he had none.

Castiel was gone with no hope of return this time. The feeling of a bowling ball in his gut was always present. The sorrow and guilt weighed down his already heavy heart as he stared helplessly at the black shadows expanding across the water, the beige trench coat floating to the surface of the water, tattered and bloodied.

Sam stood unsteadily by his side, leaning onto his older brother ever so slightly. Dean waited, hoping that by some miracle Cas would suddenly break the surface of the water, gasping and struggling for breath. Of course, no such thing happened. One can only avoid certain death so many times and Dean wished with all his heart that he could give one of his many resurrections to Castiel just to see him one more time.

Dean would be lying if he said he thought Cas was perfect. Cas was far from perfect. He was arrogant and self-righteous. He had an air about him as if he were superior sometimes. He was useless without his powers and he had never seen Dirty Dancing. He made mistakes and he lied and he went behind the Winchesters’ backs but he was always loyal in one way or another. Dean knew that every move Castiel made was calculated to benefit Dean in some way.

And Dean took advantage of Castiel’s loyalty. He would pray and Cas would come. He relied on Cas heavily for inside information. Dean was no angel either. He lied and cheated and took advantage of Castiel in general. He was so trusting of Dean it was almost ridiculous.

He had blind faith in humanity. He refused to believe that humans were all bad. Castiel was a wonder in so many words.

So as Dean watched as that wonderful creature evaporated into the water, he felt his whole world crumble around him. It was worse than when Sam was sucked down into cage; worse than when he watched Jo and Ellen go up into fire; worse than being torn apart by hell hounds; worse than watching his house burn with his mother inside. Dean was alone.

Sure he had Sam, but it was only a matter of time before he shattered into a million tiny pieces with no hope of ever being put back together again. It was only a matter of time before he tipped off the edge, falling into the cage again, stuck in his head with Lucifer.

Sam tugged on his arm, telling him in a hurried, rough tone that they had to go now. Letting himself be pulled, he watched the last of the black shadows disappear into the water and he watched his last shreds of hope go with them.

Cas was gone and Lucifer was banging around inside Sam’s head.

Dean swallowed the lump in his throat. He focused his energy on the pain in his leg and ignored the shrieking voice in his head telling him it was all over.

* * *

With a broken leg and a mentally unstable brother, Dean spent most of his days on the rough and itchy couch in Bobby’s cabin. He entertained himself with soap operas and complaining to annoy Bobby. He tried balancing spoons on his nose. He convinced Sam to get him the Star Trek movies so he could watch them. He certainly did not think about a blue eyed angel telling him he was the one who raised him from Hell.

Dean was in the business of lying to himself but there was one thing he could not even try to convince himself otherwise: he and Castiel did share a profound bond.

It was impossible to ignore, even buried beneath booze and cheap women. Dean didn’t know if it was because Cas had raised him from perdition or because Cas was so loyal and so trusting and Dean was the same with him. He always felt connected to Cas in some way and he appreciated that constant assurance deep in his gut.

But now there was a Cas-shaped hole where that assurance used to be and it was filled with stone-cold worry. Dean finished off his beer and settled back on the musty couch, letting his eyes slip closed. He’d be damned if he didn’t get a few extra hours of sleep.

* * *

_Dean carved into the soft and sagging flesh of an older man as he begged for mercy. “Please! Please, sir, stop!”_

_“Stop?” Dean asked, laughing drily. “I’m just getting started.” He reviewed the tools on the small metal table to his right, opting for a drill. The old man whimpered._

_“Oh, Dean-y. You’re my best student,” Alistair purred._

_Dean felt his insides twist, not with guilt, but with pride. A small voice in the back of his head screamed at him; told him to drop the tools and go back to the rack, but he smiled back at Alistair and wondered why he hadn’t asked to get off the rack thirty years earlier._

_He powered up the drill and teased the old man’s eyelids, watching them flutter beneath the threat of the drill. “You don’t seem the type to be here,” Dean mused, dragging the drill down the man’s chest. “I’ve been here some time now and I’ve seen a lot of messed up souls, but you?” Dean pushed the drill slowly in between two of the man’s ribs, humming as the older man writhed in pain. “You seem like an okay man, other than the fact that you’re in Hell, of course. So, what was it?” Dean drilled another hole just below the first one. “You murder some people? Rape some poor girls? Cannibalism?”_

_Dean pulled the drill back and changed out the shank, choosing a longer and more serrated top. The man spoke._

_“I didn’t do none of that, you bitch!” he spat._

_Dean pushed his bottom lip out and cocked his head, mocking his victim. He placed the drill’s tip right between the man’s eyes, teasing the button that made it spin. “What did you do then?” Dean said coolly as he pulled the trigger and watched as the man screamed in agony. A few more holes in random parts of the body and Dean decided the drill was boring and grabbed a scalpel._

_“You see, my friend, I came here because I cared too much.” He dragged the scalpel lightly across the man’s back. “I cared too, too much about my baby brother. He was a bitch; I’ll tell ya. He was always whining about how much his life sucked and he was whining about things he couldn’t control. The kid was exhausting,” Dean mused, drawing out the vowels._

_The small voice kicked at his skull, rattling it before Dean shut it down completely._

_“Dean this sucks; Dean that sucks. Oh boo-hoo. As if his life sucked more than mine. Little Sammy went to college. Little Sammy found the perfect girl. Little Sammy had bright futures. Did he ever once think that maybe I would want that, too?”_

_Dean snorted, carefully cutting just below the hairline of his victim. He no longer made noise since Dean had cut his tongue out, but, boy, did he thrash._

_"I was a high school drop out. I’m lucky to know how to add and multiply. I’ve never once had a long-term relationship. My future was always doomed. And my father? Oh that son of a bitch!” Dean shouted as he pulled his victim’s scalp off._

_The man made inhuman noises, thrashing violently and pulling at the chains holding him up, wrists bleeding from the friction of rusted metal on his tender skin._

_“I was the only one he had! I stood by Dad when Sammy didn’t! And what did I get in return? Nothing! Maybe I’d get to drive the car now and then and maybe I’d be given a few dollars to blow on a cheap beer and a cheaper woman. Did I ever get the attention little Sammy did? Hell no!”_

_Dean pulled the scalpel down the man’s face, curving around his eye and ear, peeling the skin away to reveal the facial muscles on his right side. The man thrashed and thrashed and Dean laughed darkly._

_“Daddy dearest would always make time to check up on Sammy at Stanford. You wanna know what he did when he couldn’t find me after a hunt? He went to a bar and got piss drunk!” He slashed across the man’s chest. “When I finally found my way back, I found him spooning with a wrinkled whore! In my bed!”_

_The man looked up at him. Despite half his face having been peeled away, Dean could see the sorrow and the pity written on him. Dean roared with rage and drove the scalpel into the man’s eye._

_That was the last man Dean ever tortured during his time in Hell. Because as soon as he stabbed that man in his pale gray eye and saw his eyes flicker black, a ferocious essence surrounded him and he felt a searing pain in his shoulder as he pulled up from Hell and into the pine box where his mangled skeleton lay._

_Before his eyes flew open, he heard heavenly voices sing: “Dean Winchester has been saved!”_

* * *

Sam was always telling Dean it was better to talk things out than to hold them in. Dean would always tell Sam to shut his cakehole and eat his rabbit food. Sam knew a lot about what Dean held on the inside, but there was one thing Dean was sure Sam knew nothing about: his profound adoration for their angel friend.

Once Dean had woken up in the pine box, breathing in stale air and coughing up a fit, one thing was on his mind: who?

From the moment he sprung from the grave, he had one goal: find his savior. And kill him. As was the Winchester way.

When his savior blew his ear drums out in that abandoned gas station and shattered the motel mirror above him, Dean wanted nothing more than to strangle him. But if Dean was being honest with himself, he wanted to hug that person or creature. He wanted to thank them over and over until he could not longer speak and his mouth was dry and the words had lost their meaning. Dean wanted nothing more than to see his savior.

As he watched Pamela’s eyes burn out and he watched as this amazing man walked through the tin doors of that barn, the roof rattling like a marble in a jar, he knew he had to do one thing: kill that son of a bitch as he said thank you.

Which, of course, did no good. Friggin’ angels and their immortality and shit.

Dean was reluctant to trust Castiel. He still didn’t believe he was even an angel. But by and by, that slowly began to change. Even when he was helping Uriel; even when he was trying to kidnap Anna; Dean watched in wonder as his savior, Castiel, did remarkable things.

Before Cas discovered he could have free will, he was a bit of a bastard, to put it mildly. Sometimes Dean felt like he was just a pawn in the angel games; easily replaced and easily manipulated. Castiel had his perks but he also had his flaws, and the latter was all Dean saw in their first few months together.

The apocalypse changed Castiel and it changed Dean, too. Once Sam had gone, Castiel, Bobby, Lisa, and Ben were all he had left and Castiel was busy with the civil war up in heaven. But when Dean prayed, Castiel was there. He was there for Dean and Dean would never be able to repay him. Castiel was truly Dean’s savior and in his own way, Dean was Castiel’s.

The two men were reliant on each other in ways they didn’t even notice. They would bitch about siblings to each other. They would seek each other’s help. They would hope, no, they would know, that the other had their back and wasn’t going to let them down. Dean felt like he had another person who would always be there for him and Castiel found someone who wouldn’t take any bullshit and keep him in line.

Dean remembers in perfect clarity the day the two of them met in the tin barn. He chuckled softly as he surfed the channels.

* * *

_“Who are you?” Dean asked, demon blade held behind his back._

_Calmly, as if there was no danger, the man said, “I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.”_

_Dean narrowed his eyes and adjusted his fingers on the handle of the blade. “Yeah. Thanks for that.” He plunged the knife into the man’s chest and watched in horror as he didn’t even flinch. The man smiled like he was dealing with a child and pulled the knife from his shoulder. It clattered to the ground. The man continued to stare at Dean._

_Bobby swung from behind with a metal crowbar, the man stopped the swing with the palm of his hand and pressed two fingers to Bobby’s forehead. Dean observed helplessly as Bobby sank to the floor. The man tilted his head as he watched the older man sink to the floor. He turned back to Dean, blue eyes intent and focused. “We need to talk, Dean. Alone,” he said in a rough voice._

_The dark-haired creature was the least of Dean’s worries. Dean sank down next to Bobby and found his pulse thrumming steadily._

_“You’re friend is alive,” the trench-coated man said offhandedly, flipping through some books on the table in the barn._

_Dean glared at the man, trying to think of all the ways he knew how to kill things. That’s all the man was to him: a threat, a thing to kill. Dean tried again. “Who are you?”_

_Still not looking up, the powerful man said, “Castiel.”_

_Unmoving from Bobby’s side, Dean continued. “Yeah, I figured that much. But what are you?”_

_Castiel finally looked up, shocked that Dean hadn’t figured it out yet. He narrowed his eyes as he scrutinized Dean. “I’m an angel of the Lord.”_

_Dean paused, looked at Bobby, looked back at Castiel, and began to rise very slowly. Angels don’t exist, he thought. Forcefully, Dean said, “Get the hell out of here. There’s no such thing.” There’s no way this Castiel character took him for an idiot._

_Castiel turned to face the mere human, explaining slowly as if Dean were a stubborn toddler. “This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith.” The angel’s eyes darkened and Dean swallowed harshly._

_Nothing could have prepared him for what happened next._

_Lightning flashing and thunder clapping, Dean saw Castiel’s wings, full and dark and menacing. Dean stepped back in evident shock._

_Resuming his facade, Dean’s expression soured and he accused, “Some angel you are. You burned out that poor woman’s eyes.”_

_Castiel shook his head, staring at the concrete before him. He found this tiresome and wished that Dean would just trust him. “I warned her not to spy on my true form,” Castiel defended himself, stepping closer to Dean. He avoided looking Dean in the eye. “It can be overwhelming to humans and so can my real voice.” He paused. “But you already knew that.”_

_Dean squinted his eyes, trying to understand this new creature. “You mean the gas station and the motel? That was you talking?” he asked incredulously, remembering the shrill ringing and broken glass._

_Castiel nodded, keeping eye contact with Dean now._

_Dean laughed without humor. “Buddy, next time lower the volume.”_

_Castiel’s eyes flickered to the floor again. “That was my mistake. Certain people- special people- can perceive my true visage. I thought you would be one of them. I was wrong.”_

_Somewhat offended at feeling deemed as inadequate, Dean accused Castiel yet again of taking another human’s life. “And what visage are you in now, huh? What- holy tax accountant?”_

_As if suddenly aware of his meat suit, Castiel looked down at his vessel’s body. “This? This is a vessel.”_

_No different than demon scum, Dean thought. “You’re possessing some poor bastard?”_

_"_ _He’s a devout man. He actually prayed for this.”_

_“Look, pal, I’m not buying what you’re selling,” Dean said, obviously done with the whole ordeal. “Who are you, really?”_

_"_ _I told you,” Castiel said firmly._

_Dean nodded his head, clicking his tongue. Bitingly, he stated, “Right. And why would an angel rescue me from Hell?”_

_“Good things do happen, Dean,” the angel explained, stepping closer._

_Defensively, Dean bit back, “Not in my experience.”_

_Castiel, truly seeing Dean for the first time, asked, “What’s the matter? You don’t think you deserve to be saved.”_

_Dean squirmed under Castiel’s gaze. Trying to keep cool, he inquired, “Why’d you do it?”_

_“Because God commanded it. Because we have work for you.”_

_Dean swallowed the lump in his throat. “God? Buddy, look. I don’t know what you’ve been smoking-”_

_“After all you’ve seen, you still cannot believe there is a god?” Castiel questioned, stepping even closer to Dean._

_“I don’t know what to believe.”_

_“Well believe in me,” the angel commanded. “You can trust me.”_

_And when Castiel placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder and the handprint there flared up, Dean felt safe and protected. He trusted Castiel, even if it went against every nerve telling him not to._

* * *

“Dean, come on,” Sam urged as he pulled on his fed suit. “We have a job.”

Dean groaned, rolling over on the hard motel bed. He rubbed his hand across his face and grabbed the beer bottle off the nightstand, taking the last swig of the warm liquid. “Sammy, what are you doing?”

Sam turned around and brought his eyebrows together. “What do you mean? We have a job, Dean.”

“I- I don’t mean, like what are you doing. I mean, what are you doing?”

Sam stared at his older brother, nose scrunched up in confusion.

“You’ve got Lucifer having a tea party inside your head. How can you act normal?” Dean explained.

“What else am I supposed to do, Dean? Hide in a dark room and have gossip hour with the devil?”

Dean stood up off the bed. “I don’t know, Sam. Shouldn’t you be falling apart? Shouldn’t you be in a- in a- I don’t know- mental hospital?”

Sam set his jaw defiantly. “Maybe I’m stronger than I look. I see Lucifer right now, standing right behind you, but I’m acting normal for your sake, Dean!”

“Me? You’re acting normal for me?”

“You miss Cas. Cas is gone, Dean! Nothing is going to bring him back! We have to focus on the problem in front of us. So put on your suit and let’s go, okay?”

“You go,” Dean said, waving his hand. “I got other things to do.”

“You can’t bring him back, Dean.”

* * *

_“Castiel, I pray for you to come help me? Look, I’m knew at this whole prayer thing, so could you just- I don’t know, help me? Cas? Do you copy?” Dean said hesitantly._

_A flutter of wings and new presence in the room, Castiel said, “It’s a start. Not exactly a prayer but, it’s a start.”_

_“Jesus, Castiel. You couldn’t have come sooner? I felt like an idiot talking to myself.”_

_“Where’s Sam?”_

_“Supply run. Cas, I need your help.”_

_Worry creasing his brow, the angel questioned, “What is it?”_

_Dean looked down at his hands, chewing his lower lip._

_“You remember Hell.”_

_The older Winchester brother looked up. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. And I- I remember what I said, too. And what I did.”_

_Castiel, new at the whole human feelings thing, cautiously patted Dean’s shoulder. It was awkward but Dean still felt comforted. “Dean, you have to remember that Hell twists the best of men into something they’re not. You lasted thirty years before relenting to Alistair. That’s very impressive.” Cas sat down next to Dean on the motel bed, the mattress curving under the new weight._

_“Cas, I remember the things I said about- about my family. The way I talked about them. And- and the thing is, I was telling the truth,” Dean whispered._

_Cas looked down at his hands, which were lying uselessly on his knees. “Sometimes things just need to be said so you can see the bigger picture.” Cas looked back up at Dean._

_“I heard what you said before I rescued you. I heard you talking about your father and Sam.”_

_Dean unconsciously leaned into Cas’ shoulder as emotion overcame him. A single tear fell down his cheek, splashing onto Castiel’s trenchcoat and absorbing into the fabric._

_“What you said was true, Dean. John did keep a closer eye on Sam but not because he didn’t care about you. He knew you were capable of handling things on your own. Your father had more faith in you. He trusted you on some level,” Cas said slowly._

_Dean closed his eyes, a sob escaping his lips. “Castiel, please. You gotta help me.”_

_“I can’t make you forgive yourself, Dean.”_

_Dean wrapped his arms around the solid warmth of Castiel and let down all his walls. Hell, Sam and the demon blood, the apocalypse, everything hit him at once and he just clung to Cas. He pressed his face into Castiel’s neck and sobbed. He had never cried so hard in his life. He thought nothing could get worse._

_Castiel hugged Dean back, trying to grasp the concept of human emotion. They stayed like that a long time, just holding onto each other. It was when Dean finally realized he could forgive himself. It was when Cas realized he had free will. The moment they shared kick-started everything._

_It was the beginning of their profound bond._

* * *

Dean knew how to deal with death; kind of. He had died plenty of times so he knew how it works. But Dean Winchester had bizarre experiences with death. Most of the time, people came back. Sam came back, twice. Cas came back after Lucifer fell in the cage. Dean had come back himself. He had also seen many people die and never come back. Jo, Ellen, Ash. His mother. John. The people he couldn’t save. Dean was familiar with death. But this time, Dean couldn’t deal.

Bobby was gone now. Shot in the head. His last word was ‘idjits’. What a freaking head case, that guy was. Sam was all Dean had left. Which wasn’t much, considering the fact that Sam’s mind was all buddy-buddy with friggin’ Lucifer. Dean considered himself alone, more or less. And Dean being alone was a very, very dangerous thing.

Not to mention the freakin’ Leviathans going around and fattening up humans. And friggin’ Dick Roman. And friggin’ Eve. Dean felt like his life was spinning out of control. He wished for the better times, like the apocalypse or something. How sad his life must be for the apocalypse to be the better option.

Dean sighed and fell back onto the motel bed. Sam was asleep in the next bed over. They had just burned Bobby’s body. The smell of burnt flesh seemed to cling to Dean’s skin; seemed to soak into his pores and eat him from the inside out. He decided a shower would be a good idea.

Stepping under the soft spray of water, Dean adjusted the temperature and squeezed the miniature motel shampoo bottle contents into his hands. He scrubbed his fingers through his hair. He rubbed soap over his skin so furiously some parts bled. The water ran cold and the shower head delivered a great belch after Dean had turned it off.

Looking at his raw skin brought back memories he did not want to relive. 

* * *

“Bobby, you know how this ends,” Sam urged, pacing the room.

Bobby shrugged and flickered out of the room. He reappeared a moment later saying, “Balls!”

“Sam’s right,” Dean added.

“I know Sam’s right. When is the kid not right? All I’m saying is that I can be useful. Just because I’m dead, doesn’t mean I can’t help.”

“You should have crossed over,” Sam said again.

“Ain’t you boys ever grateful? I can help!”

Dean scrubbed his hand down his face and sighed. He didn’t have time for this. He didn’t have time for any of this. He already had too much on his plate. Castiel is dead, Sam has Lucifer singing show tunes in his brain, and now Bobby insists on helping even though he’s dead.

“Bobby, you have to cross over. You’re going to end up hurting people!” Dean shouted.

“I ain’t gonna turn vengeful! I’ve hunted ‘nough spirits to know what not to do.”

“Bobby, please.”

“I’m helping you boys whether you like it or not. What’s the plan?”

The brothers exchanged glances before heaving a collective sigh and laying out the plan. 

* * *

_“Maybe I said it wrong,” Crowley uttered._

_A flutter of wings sounded and Castiel appeared, holding a jar of blood. “You said it perfectly,” Castiel grinned. “But what you needed was this.” He raised the jar of blood and grinned wider. Dean watched the exchange from the ground. Castiel set the jar of blood on a metal table, the clank of glass on metal echoing through the quiet room._

_Dean stood up, his body aching from the fall he just had._

_“I see,” Crowley said, something between anger and admirance flickering in his dark eyes. He dipped his fingers in the blood of the sigil on the tiled wall. “And we’ve been working with-” He paused to taste the blood. “Dog blood. Naturally.”_

_Dean swallowed back the bile rising in his throat. How the hell did Crowley know what dog’s blood tastes like?_

_Raphael, finally deciding to cut in, said, “Enough of these games, Castiel. Give us the blood.” His words dripped with power. Dean ignored the trembling in his hands. A showdown between angels never ended well; for the angels or anyone in the general vicinity._

_Crowley chuckled darkly. “You- Game’s over. His jar’s empty.”_

_Dean glanced at the jar. Sure enough, just the inside was coated with blood. Dean wondered what Cas had up his sleeve._

_“So, Castiel,” Crowley continued, “how’d your ritual go? Better than ours, I’ll bet.”_

_Castiel looked at the ground and his eyes fluttered closed. Dean glanced at Bobby, and back at Cas. The room began to shake as if the epicenter of an earthquake was right below Dean’s work boots. Castiel glowed a bright white and Dean covered his eyes. The light soon faded as did the obnoxious ringing._

_Dean stared at Castiel who had a devilish smirk plastered across his face. It wasn’t the Castiel knew had grown to know and love._

_Castiel spoke, his voice softer and less gravelly, but deadly all the same. “You can’t imagine what it’s like. They’re all inside me; millions upon millions of souls.”_

_Sarcastic as always, Crowley chirped, “Sounds sexy. Exit stage Crowley.” And Crowley was gone._

_“Now what’s the matter Raphael?” Castiel teased. “Somebody clipped your wings?”_

_In a timid voice, one Dean would never assume belonged to an archangel, Raphael whispered, “Castiel, please. You let the demon go, but not your own brother?”_

_“The demon I have plans for,” Castiel retorted. “You, on the other hand…” Castiel snapped and Raphael’s vessel exploded. A mess of red muscle and bone coated the white tile walls. Dean stumbled backward._

_Castiel continued his spiel. The fear in Dean’s stomach grew darker and heavier. “So, you see, I saved you.”_

_“You sure did, Cas,” Dean uttered cautiously. “Thank you.”_

_Castiel had his back to Dean but Dean still heard the smile in the angel’s voice. “You doubted me. Fought against me. But I was right all along.” Dean looked on as he breathed heavily._

_Please don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt me, Dean prayed. Aloud, Dean said, “Okay, Cas, you were. We’re sorry. Let’s just defuse you, okay?” Dean wasn’t used to being cautious around Cas. His defenses were always down around the angel._

_“What do you mean?” Castiel asked, screwing up his face._

_Dean paused. “You’re full of nuke. It’s not safe. So before the eclipse ends, let’s get them souls back to where they belong.”_

_“Oh no, they belong with me.”_

_“No, Cas, it’s scrambling your brain.”_

_“No, I’m not finished yet.”_

_Dean clutched the dense ball of fear in his stomach._

_“Raphael had many followers, and I must punish them all severely.”_

_Dean glanced at Bobby and took a tentative step towards Cas. “Listen to me. Listen. I know there’s a lot of bad water under the bridge. But we were family once. I’d have died for you. I almost did a few times.” Because I love you, Dean thought. He continued. “So, if that means anything to you, please. I’ve lost Lisa; I’ve lost Ben; and now I’ve lost Sam. Don’t make me lose you, too.” Dean blinked back tears. “You don’t need this kind of juice anymore, Cas. Get rid of it before it kills us all.”_

_Dean’s point seemed to go completely over Castiel’s head. “You’re just saying that because I won. Because you’re afraid.” Getting into Dean’s personal space, not the ignorant way he used to do, but in a far more menacing manner, Cas said the words that broke Dean’s heart: “You’re not my family, Dean. I have no family.”_

_And then Sam stabbed Castiel in the back._

_And nothing happened._

_Castiel pulled the blade out. “I’m glad you made it, Sam. But the angel blade won’t work.”_

_Thanks for stating the obvious, Dean thought._

_“Because I’m not an angel anymore. I’m your new God.” Dean’s heart stopped. “A better one. So you will bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord. Or I shall destroy you.”_

_Castiel glared until Bobby sighed, “Well, alright then.” He got on his knees. “Is this good or you want the whole forehead-to-the-carpet thing?” Dean continued to stare at Cas; his Cas, until Bobby spoke, “Guys?” Sam and Dean then slowly lowered themselves to the ground._

_“Stop,” Castiel ordered when Dean was half-way down. Dean hoped Cas would smile and say it was all one big joke. But he didn’t. “What’s the point if you don’t mean it? You fear me. Not love; not respect; just fear.”_

_Feebly, Sam said, “Cas-” before Castiel cut him off._

_“Sam, you have nothing to say to me. You stabbed me in the back.” Cas directed his attention to Dean and Bobby. “Get up.”_

_Dean tried one more time. “Cas, come on, this is not you.”_

_“The Castiel you knew is gone.”_

_“So, what, then? Kill us?”_

_“What a brave little ant you are. You know you’re powerless. You wouldn’t dare move against me again. That would be pointless. So I have no need to kill you. Not now.” Dean’s stomach twisted even more than Dean thought possible. “Besides, once, you were my favorite pets, before you turned and bit me.”_

_“Who are you?” Dean asked._

_“I’m God. And of you stay in your place, you may live in my Kingdom. If you rise up, I will strike you down. Not doing so well, are you, Sam?”_

_“I’m fine,” Sam said in a way that conveyed the opposite. “I’m fine.”_

_Angry now, Dean shouted, “You said you would fix him. You promised!” After all, Cas was the one who broke the wall. Dean didn’t want to think about that or the consequences. He just wanted to sleep for a very, very long time._

_“If you stood down, which you hardly did. Be thankful for my mercy.” He looked at Sam. “I could have cast you back in the Pit.”_

_“Cas, come on. This is nuts!” Dean reasoned. “You can turn this around. Please!”_

_“I hope for your sake, this is the last you see me.”_

_And Castiel- beautiful, perfect, kind, loving, blissfully naive Castiel- was gone._  

* * *

Dean woke screaming, his sheets soaked in sweat.

His angel. His sweet, handsome angel. His Castiel. His best friend. He was gone. The bed next to him was empty; there were not enough memories to fill the hole.


End file.
